Wither Thou Goest, I Will Go
by AlyssaQuigley
Summary: Alex Colten has been hunting with the boys for nearly a year now. Saving people, hunting things, the usual. Until a near-fatal injury nearly separates the three, leaving bonds weaker, and blood boiling. *Spoilers* Begins 2x3.
1. Onward and Upward

The sun was shining through the dirty yellow curtains of the motel room onto the orange carpet. Despite the place I was in, I could appreciate a sunrise. The start of a new day, a chance to start over. For me anyway. The boys were still sleeping.

"Sam! Dean! Would you get your asses up already? I thought you wanted to be on the road by day break!"

"Hmph," Dean growled. Sam was playing it off like he was still asleep.

"Okay. Fine. We're going to have to do this the hard way," I warned. I grabbed the spray bottle that I normally used to put my hair into a somewhat neat ponytail everyday. "I'm not afraid to soak you two. So unless you want to get a shower in bed, get the hell up so we can grab some breakfast. I'm starving."

Dean immediately stirred at the word "breakfast". Typical. However, Sam was still "asleep" as Dean went into the washroom to take a shower.

"Okay, Sam. You leave me no choice." Instead of just spraying water on him, I unscrewed the top and dumped its entire contents on his head that he tried (and failed) to hide under the covers.

"Alex! What the hell!" Sam exclaimed as he shot up, wiping the water from his face.

"Sorry not sorry, Sam. I warned you. Now get the hell up and finish taking the shower that I started for you," I joked as I scruffed up his soaking hair. He swatted my hand away and grabbed my waist and pulled me down on the bed so he was on top of me and rubbed his wet head all over my shirt. I giggled and shoved him off. "Hey! I already took my shower!" I laughed. He continued drying his head off on my shirt.

In the middle of our little wrestling match on the bed, Dean walked out of the shower with a white towel around his waist. He stared at us for a few seconds, no doubt thinking up some eighth grade insult like he always did when me . "What are you, sixteen? Get in the shower. Breakfast is waiting." He was drying his hair with a smaller white towel as he walked over to his duffel bag to pull out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a brown flannel.

Sam rolled his eyes and walked over to the bathroom.

I got off the bed, straightening out my clothes. "I'm going to check us out, so be ready in ten minutes. Both of you!" I yelled so Sam could hear over the sound of running water. I grabbed our room key and walked across the parking lot to the small office at the other end.

As I walked out of the office, they were both putting their stuff in the van. I walked over and leaned next to Sam as we watched Dean struggling to find his car keys.

"Five bucks says he finds them in about one minute," Sam whispered. I scoffed.

"Ten says he finds them in half that," I whispered back. We shook on it and waited for Dean to find his missing keys. Dean's keys were always in his coat pocket every time he thought he "lost" them. About a minute after Sam and I exchanged another knowing glance, Dean found his keys.

"Guess I'm ten bucks richer," Sam teased as he playfully punched my shoulder. I punched him back a little harder. "You overestimate him sometimes." Sam and I both chuckled.

"What are you two laughing at," Dean asked as he opened the driver side door, looking slightly confused.

"Nothing," Sam and I both said in unison as we opened our doors to get into the car. Dean stood around outside for a couple seconds still trying to figure out what was so funny before he went around to the back of the car and threw his duffle bag in.

"I miss Baby," I pouted as I got into the back seat.

"Yeah, tell me about it. Bobby said he'd work on her for me while we were working on that case, so before we start the next freak show, we're going to see if he has her ready." I nodded at Dean's words. Sam just sat in the passenger side and stared out the front window with a small grin on his face. He wasn't really into cars the way me and Dean were so he couldn't be as excited as us to see Baby up and running after being nearly folded in half by a transport truck a while ago.

The memory of the crash and John's death tugged at my heart just as much as when I first heard about his death. I was in the hospital with them as soon as I heard about the crash and what happened with Azazel. Dean had nearly died and had been in a coma that doctors were afraid he wouldn't come out of. Sam was a complete wreck. We tried everything we thought would help Dean come out of this, but we later found out that Dean had come out of his coma because John had summoned Azazel and traded his life for Dean's. It's been eating Dean up ever since. Right after he got out of the hospital, he began working on Baby as a way to escape facing what had happened. The mention of Baby sprung memories of that terrible event, but that car was all the boys had left of John as well as his journal.

"I saw a little burrito place up the road," Dean said, trying to break the silence.

"Do you _want_ heartburn for the rest of the day?" I teased. Dean had a thing for greasy food. Once when he got a burrito for breakfast, he kept complaining that he had heartburn for the rest of the day. Sam and I wouldn't let him live it down. _"What, you can handle fighting with cracked ribs, but a little heartburn puts you on your ass?"_ Sam and I teased him that entire day and then some.

Dean was a badass but he was a baby at the best of times and he got easily offended when you played his strings the right way like I was doing right now. "Okay! We'll find somewhere else. " He turned the key in the ignition and the van rolled over a couple times before the steady hum of the motor took over. Dean made a face of disgust at how the van had acted. He really missed his car.

I leaned forward between the boys and rested my head on my hands over the center console and made an exaggerated pouty face. "Don't be mad," I said in my best little kid voice. Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. "We're just trying to look out for you." I turned on my puppy eyes and looked up at Dean. He cracked a small smile and rolled his eyes once more. I propped my feet up on the center console of the mini van and sat back in my seat, a self-satisfied look on my face as we started driving.

"This is why I don't let you ride shotgun," Dean said. As we drove out of the motel parking lot, he pushed my feet off. I laughed and put them right back where they were.

We were driving for twenty minutes before we came across a little restaurant called _Dave's_ _Diner._ It looked a little sketchy, but most diners in the middle of nowhere usually did. We drove into the parking lot and surveyed the place a bit before we entered. Force of habit. The interior was yellow peeling wallpaper with pale yellow flowers all over. The furniture was cheap ripped orange leather on the seats and backs of rusty metal chair frames. The tables looked as if they could fall over at any moment, but at this point we were already in the diner so we might as well stay for food. Who knows? It could be pretty good.

And it was.

After two plates of pancakes and bacon, I was as full as I've ever been in my entire life. Sam and Dean didn't look far off. Me and Dean convinced Sam to get the pancakes and bacon like we had. Looks like he enjoyed it just as much as Dean and I. After the bill had been paid we got immediately back on the road.

"Alright. Time to get Baby!" I exclaimed as I opened the diner door with a small jingle from the bell attached to the top. Dean's grin reached his eyes for the first time in a long time. Sam walked up beside me and put his arm around my shoulders and placed a small kiss to the top of my head. I walked in between the brothers on the way to the car just reveling in the feeling of having people I can call family.

"There she is!" Dean shouted as we pulled into Bobby's junkyard filled with scrapped cars. Bobby, a scruffy looking older man came walking out of the only house on the big property. He had on a tattered baseball hat and a ratty plaid shirt with dirty jeans and work boots. Nobody could have a doubt in their mind about him being a mechanic. He definitely looked like the mechanic type. Despite his ragged appearance, the energy he emitted was welcoming and warm. Dean and I jumped out of the van and walked over to Bobby.

"Hey, Bobby!" As soon as I got a couple feet away from him, I threw myself towards him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He staggered a bit and then hugged me back equally as hard. "Heya, kiddo." After a couple seconds, I backed up to give Sam a chance to get to hug him. It was a short manly, thump on the back, one-armed hug. Dean however was enveloped in the sight of his pride and joy. He turned to Bobby.

"You didn't a good job on her, Bobby," Dean said. He walked over to give him a proper hug. Not like the one Sam and Bobby shared. He held on for a few extra seconds. He backed up, thumped Bobby lightly on his shoulder and walked but over to his Baby. I joined him.

"She looks good as new." I laid a hand on her hood peaked inside. You wouldn't know just by looking at it that this car had been in a terrible accident. The beige seats were just as they were when I last saw her, the dashboard was perfect, the frame had been fixed. She was like a brand new car.

The look in Deans eyes was one of reminiscence. It nearly brought tears to my own eyes to see it. I walked over to him and put my arm around his shoulders awkwardly (I was nearly a foot and a half shorter than him). "Your dad would be proud of you, Dean." He smiled down at me. He might have been over a foot taller but right now he seemed so small. I hugged him for a few seconds and turned back to the car.

"She's not going anywhere! Get your asses inside!" We heard Bobby yell from his front porch. We didn't realize how long we'd been standing there.

Inside the house, Sam was parked on a chair at the kitchen table, on his laptop, researching the case we were working on. We were pretty sure it was a demonic cult, what with decapitations, and cattle mutilations. Sam was never one to waste time that's for sure. I took the chair adjacent from him and Dean stayed standing, leaning on the doorframe lost in thought. I leaned in closer to Sam.

"Does Dean seem okay to you?" I asked. Looking at his laptop like I was discussing the case with him.

"Honestly? No, but he'll talk when he's ready. He always does. We just have to give him time," Sam, always the psychiatrist, suggested. I agreed, but I still worried about him. I could tell he was eating himself up, but if he's pushed too far, he'll just shut down and we won't get anything out of him. He needs to talk when he's ready. That much was clear. So I let it be for the time being and started to actually look over the case with Sam. As soon as we found what we were looking for, we got up and Sam closed his laptop and folded it under his arm.

"Hey, Dean, we should get going," Sam piped up. Bobby grabbed a key from the small table by the front door and tossed them to Dean. Dean's mood brightened instantly at the thought of finally driving his Baby again.

We were on the road soon enough. I've never seen Dean so happy to be behind the wheel before, but I understood his excitement. I myself had a beautiful American muscle car in the shape of a gorgeous 1970 Ford Mustang. She was my pride and joy since the day I got her. Sadly I had to sell her a while ago to get some extra cash because hustling pool games and running credit card scams wasn't exactly bringing in enough for me to get by. It was one of the saddest days of my life, but I had to do what I had to do to survive. I turned my attention back to Dean.

"Woo! Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?" Dean exclaimed with a huge grin on his face as we drove down the road. Sam rolled his eyes and grinned.

"You know, if you two want to get a room, just let me know, Dean," Sam joked, casting a sidelong glance at his brother.

"Awe, don't listen to him Baby. He doesn't understand us," Dean said affectionately, tapping the dashboard.

I poked my head over the front seat. "Hey, there is a very sacred bond between a car and it's owner. Don't disrespect it," I chimed in. I scruffed up Sam's hair playfully. He swatted my hand away, giggling.

"Amen!" Dean declared, still with a huge grin. I held out my right hand and Dean slapped it. Sam rolled his eyes. He never really was car savvy, but that's where me and Dean had something very important in common. I've helped him work on this car numerous times, I know her like the back of my hand. I rested my chin on the front seat.

"You're in a good mood," Sam said, looking over at Dean, noticing that he didn't throw sarcasm at us the first chance he got.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Dean looked slightly offended at the remark, but let it slide.

"Yeah, why shouldn't he be?" I said looking back and forth between the brothers and winking at Sam to let him know I was completely okay with whatever he had in mind when we got some spare time alone.

"No reason," Sam concluded, turning back to the road.

"I got my car, we got a case. Things are looking up," he said, gaining back his positive optimistic attitude.

"Wow…give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're 'Mr. Sunshine'." Dean laughed at Sam's remark. I did too. I loved when the boys smiled. Really smiled. Those little luxuries weren't always a part of our world, but they were always welcomed. They reassured me that there was still room in their hearts for little pleasures like laughing at stupid things, and pranking each other every chance they got, and just simply smiling at life's little pleasures that everyone (especially us) takes for granted.

"How far till Red Lodge," Dean asked Sam.

Sam looked around for a second. "Uh… about another three hundred miles."

Dean went quiet for a couple seconds. I could guess what he wanted to do with the three hundred miles left to go. He took a special pleasure in hearing Baby's engine roar louder with speed, and I had to admit, I enjoyed it as well.

"Good," Dean said with a mischievous grin which further confirmed my inquiry. Sam looked like he knew what Dean was going to do and just sat against his seat, contentment spreading over his features.

Dean slammed his foot on the gas and tightly gripped the wheel.

Next stop: Red Lodge, Montana.


	2. Things Just Got Interesting

"Murder investigation is ongoing and that's all I can share with the press." Somehow believably Sam and I lied our way through the front desk of the sheriff's station and into the sheriff's office. We were posing as reporters from Weekly World News. It was just me and Sam this time because it would look a bit suspicious if three of us showed up.

"Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first…ehm…head last week, correct?" Sam inquired, spoken like a true journalist.

The sheriff nodded.

"Okay, and the other, a…uh…" I glanced down at my folder with the case information. "Christina Flannigan…"

"That was two days ago, then —" The sheriff was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Excuse me, sir," a young blonde woman knocked on the sheriff's office door tapping the gold watch on her wrist.

The sheriff nodded. "Oh, thank you," he said to the young woman before she walked away. "Sorry. Time's up. We're done here." The sheriff started to get up out of his chair.

"One last question," Sam piped up.

"What about the cattle?" I added immediately.

"Excuse me?" The sheriff looked at me surprised that the subject was even brought up.

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained, over a dozen cases…" I prompted.

The sheriff still looked confused. "What about them?"

"So you don't think there's a connection?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Um…connection with…?" He still looked genuinely confused.

"First, cattle mutilations, now, uh… now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritual stuff," Sam asked innocently in that way only Sam could do. I shook my head and grinned imperceptibly. He was the only one I knew that could ask about satanic rituals and still pull off puppy dog eyes.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?" I pushed. I wiped the fond look off my face and replaced it with a serious one.

The sheriff burst out laughing. I suppose to other people, the sound of satanic rituals is just a taboo that couldn't possibly be real. For all he knew, we were just curious, but we were far from just "curious" and we weren't messing around. Especially when it comes to people being murdered. We weren't laughing in the slightest. As soon s the sheriff caught on, he stopped cold.

"You're not kidding," the sheriff stated, dumbfounded.

"No," Sam and I said in unison, with a slight I-told-you-so grin. The sheriff's facial expression soon turned back to its seriousness similar to the beginning of the fake interview.

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation," the sheriff said with absolute certainty, staring me dead in the eyes. "Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty-eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down, into the ground, get soaked up because that's what _gravity_ does; but… hey, it could be Satan." At this point, we looked pretty stupid asking about mutilated cows and satanic rituals. He must have thought we were insane. He looked at us like he saw behind our façade. "Which newspaper did you say you worked for?"

We exchanged looks for a second, which was probably a bad move because that would mean we had to think about it too much which would signal our lie, but personally, I was out of ideas at the moment so I was hoping Sam would save our asses by saying something believable, and quick.

"Weekly World News." For some reason, Sam had a knack for lying effectively so, in a way, he kind of covered my ass and Dean's ass when situations like this arose.

The sheriff thought for a second. No doubt he knew we weren't real reporters. "Get out of my office," he said with a stern, forceful voice without getting up from his chair.

"Yeah," I said as I got up from my chair. I was the first one out the door.

Once we were out in the parking lot, we walked over to the car where Dean sat in the driver's seat. He looked alert once he noticed us. We got in our unassigned, assigned seats like usual and I stripped off the uncomfortable blazer I was forced to wear to look the part. I untucked the blouse from the top of my pencil skirt and took my hair out of the bun I had put it in. I shook my hair out and slid on a pair of black pants underneath the skirt, leaving the blouse untucked.

Dean smirked at me. "You—"

"Just shut up and drive." I knew he was going to make some remark about me looking so girly when I usually just wore jeans and t-shirts, so I cut him off before he had the chance. He laughed quietly, no doubt pleased that he got a reaction out of me. He pulled out of the parking lot with a smile on his face as I continued to hurry out of this uncomfortable excuse for an outfit.

Our next stop was the coroner's office. We had to see for ourselves what had happened to the body of the most recent victim, Christina Flannigan to get a better idea of what we were dealing with here. We drove into the Chandler County Hospital parking lot and took a spot right in the back for a quick getaway if need be. We acquired doctors coats and we dressed professionally in office-friendly clothes (that didn't involve stupid skirts). The boys in button-down shirts and ties and me in a pair of slacks and blouse.

Dean entered the office first. There was a young dark-haired man sitting at a desk. His name tag read 'J. Manners' so Dean picked the first obvious name that came to his head. "John," he said confidently, greeting the young dark-haired man that sat at the desk.

"Jeff," he corrected, smiling like it was a mistake made often.

"Jeff, I know that," Dean said as he smiled charmingly. "Dr. Dorkin needs to see you in his office right away."

"But Dr. Dorkin's on vacation," Jeff stated skeptically.

"Well he's back, and he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would—"

"Okay," Jeff said as he rushed out the door and ran down the hall. As soon as he was far enough to our liking, I shut the door and chuckled at how gullible that young man was. We entered the examination room where there were drawers with names and bodies inside of them.

"Hey, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean didn't waste time. He got straight down to business as soon as the opportunity allowed. After all, we only have a limited amount of time to find what we needed.

"Yeah, a reverse pentacle on the forehead," Sam answered. Dean handed us both a pair of latex gloves so we could get to work.

"So much fucked up crap happens in Florida," I remarked. I walked over to the drawers that held the bodies and found the one labeled _Christina_ _Flannigan_. I knew that this body was decapitated, but it was pretty off-putting seeing a head in a box instead of attached to her neck like it should be.

I looked at them as I finished putting my gloves on. "All right, open it." I gestured with my head towards the box at her feet. They looked at me like I had three heads.

"You open it," Sam said. In an effort to look cool, Dean picked up the box and brought it over to a table.

"Wusses," he remarked as he passed us. He hesitated a bit before opening it, and when he finally conjured up the will to do so, he practically flung the lid off like if he touched it, he'd catch a disease or something. At the sight of the head, he looked like he was turning green and about to get sick all over the damn thing.

"Now who's the wuss?" I teased, nudging his arm. He ignored me, breathed deeply and turned the box toward me and Sam.

"Well… no pentagram," he stated. He just looked completely disgusted with the entire thing, even though we've done things way worse than examining the head of a poor girl who fell victim to some vicious monster with an intent to kill. Sam, on the other hand, just looked sad for her.

"Wow. Poor girl," Sam empathized. This entire experience was getting entirely too serious for my liking.

"Maybe we should… uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if this wacko stuffed anything down her throat, you know, kind of like the moth in 'Silence of the Lambs'," Dean joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," Sam said, pushing the box to face Dean.

"No, you go ahead," Dean said pushing it back.

"What?"

"Put the lotion in the basket," Dean said, jokingly.

"Right, yeah, I'm the wuss, huh?" Sam shot back.

"You guys are so immature," I mumbled. I shot them both a disappointed look and moved the box closer to me. I took a deep breath and reached into the box, felt around in her mouth and throat, while feeling like I was going to be sick, but being very good at hiding it. For the time being at least. It was usually Sam who did the dirty work during times like this, but for whatever reason, they were both being extremely immature so someone had to step up. I may be younger, but sometimes I wonder if they were adults at all. However, there was one very good reason that they did the dirty work in situations like this… "One of you get me a bucket," I said without looking up, trying to concentrate on keeping the pancakes and bacon inside my stomach.

"You find something?" Dean perked up.

"No, I'm gonna be sick," I said trying my very hardest to calm my gag reflex.

Dean looked very unimpressed with me until he saw something in her mouth and perked up once more. "Lift her lip up again," he said.

I stared at him disbelievingly and took my hands out of her mouth. "Would you like me to throw up all over this head to make it extra disgusting? Because that's what'll happen."

"No, no, no, I think I saw something," he said as he reached in. He groaned and made a face of disgust at touching a dead person's mouth. Let alone touching a dead person's mouth, in which their head was no longer on their body.

"Yeah, now you know how I feel," I remarked. I stepped back and crossed my arms in triumph.

"What is that, a hole?" Sam asked as he leaned in to get a better look. Despite my stomach, I leaned in, too. Dean pulled up her lip and pressed her pressed her gums just above what was indeed a hole to see if anything would be pushed out of it. Sure enough, something definitely came out, and almost took my breakfast with it. A sharp white fang emerged from the hole in her gums. There were a few other similar holes in a row next to it as well. I think I knew what we were dealing with here.

"It's a tooth," Sam said.

"Sam, that's a fang," Dean said as a sudden realization came across all three of us. He pulled his hand away and the fang retracted right back into the hole. "Retractable set of vampire fangs, you gotta be kidding me."

"Well, this changes things," Sam said.

"You think?" Dean asked sarcastically. Now we had a completely different situation on our hands.

"Well, this case just got interesting," I said, taking my gloves off and throwing them in a garbage bin. We all walked out of the coroner's office and back to the car without a word. "You think it could be another hunter?" I asked as I got into the back seat.

"Could be. We'll have to find out and be sure though," Sam said.


End file.
